waves. She did not know if those who were in the boat with her had lost
their lives, but she had seen no trace of them since.

When she had strength to walk, she found some birds' eggs and shell
fish, which she ate, and then went in search of some safe place where
she could rest for the night. By good chance she had a flint and a
knife; with these she set light to some dry twigs, and made a fire,
which she did not once let out till the day she left. Her life was at
first hard to bear, but she was full of hope that some day a ship would
come near the shore, to which she could make signs for help. The wild
sports of the East in which she took part had made her strong of limb,
and she had been taught to make light of such things as would vex most
of her sex.

She built a hut to sleep in, and made snares to catch birds. Some of
them she made use of for food, and some she let go with bits of cloth
tied to their legs, on which she wrote words, in the hope that they
might meet the eye of some one who could help her. This, as we knew,
had led Fritz to make his search, the end of which had brought as much
joy to us as to the young friend who now sat in our midst.

When Fritz had told us this, and much more, we came in sight of Safe
Bay. He then took Ernest with him in his small boat, and left us to go
up the stream as fast as he could to Rock House, so as to make the
place look neat by the time we brought home our guest. The two
boys--for to us they were still boys--met us on the beach. Fritz, with
a look of pride, gave his hand to Jane, and I could see a slight blush
rise to her cheek as she gave him hers. He then led her up the path, on
each side of which grew a row of young trees, and took her to a seat in
our grounds. There he and Ernest had spread out a feast of our best